Not Your Destiny: Chapter 30
Marked
Book 1: Not Your Destiny
Chapter 30
It’s all hands on deck at the shop on Wednesday morning. Insurance is still processing the cars, but the ones that are too damaged to be fixed have been hauled off the lot, and the ones that need detailing and cleaning have been towed to another place. Tony parks the Mustang in the empty back lot, and Ángel moves Helga into a nearby space until they can finish working on her.
Tanner and Hayley come in to help, along with Maritsa and Cleto. Zita is there while her children are at a program for a few hours, walking through and barking orders while Gabi writes everything down.
Tony’s shirt is smudged with soot as he scrubs down the walls, the water running dark. Maritsa works next to him, stopping to look at her fingernails.
“You’re lucky I get my nails done next week,” she mutters. “I am going to smell like smoke for my wedding. Which is in one week, thanks.”
“It’s not Tony’s fault someone lit the shop on fire,” Cleto reminds her, moving in close while Tony moves several steps away.
Maritsa deflates, dips her sponge back into the bucket and wrings out soapy, dark water. “I know. But it’s terrible timing.”
Ángel bites his tongue, because this isn’t the moment to ask if there’s any chance that Tía could be involved, or anyone else in Maritsa’s family. He still doesn’t want to think that any one of them would go this far to destroy what Maritsa has with the Mollicones. With the Lince.
“Ángel, I need you!” Gabi sings out, and he hurries away from the floor. As he slips into the office, she hands him a sponge and bucket. “We can rescue some of this. There’s a service coming in, but we need to be able to see what’s trashed and what can be done, and they’ll be redoing walls, pulling out the dead furniture, bringing in new.”
“I thought you didn’t have the settlement from insurance yet,” Ángel says.
“We don’t.” Zita sits on top of the one clean surface—Gabi’s desk—her legs crossed at the knee, a clipboard balanced there as she writes. “But we have money, and we’re paying for everything now and we’ll just put away the insurance money when we get it. I don’t want to wait to get our business open again, and I have a feeling this case will linger. Insurance will want to know more about the arson charges before they pay out.” She taps her pen against the edge of the clipboard. “They might pay the car owners first, but for us, they want proof that we didn’t torch the place on our own.”
“You’d think that with how much effort we’re putting into bringing it back to life, they’d get the idea that it’s not our fault,” Gabi mutters, scrubbing at the top of a file cabinet. “But no, apparently they think we might’ve let it all go up in smoke to get improved equipment. But we liked our setup. And the computer’s fine, and that’s honestly the one thing I would’ve liked to replace.”
“We’ll replace it anyway,” Zita says quietly. “I’ll just get that new system we were talking about, and it’ll take you some time to transfer the records. It’ll be worth it.”
“How were the paper records when you went through them?” Ángel gestures at the empty file cabinets, then starts scrubbing at his own desk.
Not his desk. The desk he’s been using, and it’s probably Zita’s desk normally. Or Tony’s, or maybe Maritsa’s. Someone else’s desk.
It feels like his desk by now, though. He reaches down, opens a drawer and looks in.
“Did you leave clothes here?” Zita asks, leaning over to look.
Ángel shakes his head. “Never really got around to it, although I should’ve. Glad I didn’t.”
Gabi snorts softly. “I love the idea that you leave clothes everywhere we are. Like you can’t resist undressing around us.”
His cheeks go hot, and he doesn’t want to go down that road, not when he wouldn’t just be talking about temporary tats with Gabi, or cleaning up with Luca. “The records?” he asks again.
“Smoky, but pretty much everything survived,” Gabi says. “The fire burned out the drawer we keep spare shirts in, then seemed to stop before it got to the records in the drawer above it. The food that Luca stored in the cabinets for snacks ended up disgusting and I already tossed it on Monday. But we can bring back the history.” She smacks the top of the filing cabinet, black water running down the side. “These aren’t burnt, but… I think I’d rather replace them, Zita.”
“Noted.” Zita kicks her heel against the desk. “Clean these out. I’m bringing in all new furniture. The cleaning crew will be starting in here tonight, and they’ll work through the weekend in order to get the place back to us as soon as possible.”
She sets the pen down, leans back on her hands and looks at the walls. “I’m having them gut the place,” she says quietly. “Redoing the walls, priming everything to get rid of the smell. They’re going to be working quickly, but they said they can do it. Some of the equipment is going to make it out, and we’re cleaning what we can before it’s scrapped or donated. It’s up to us to get everything as good as we can tonight, before they come in to get started. You guys will be doing work out back tomorrow, if we have anything come in.”
“We don’t have a tow truck,” Ángel points out. “We don’t have a way to get anything back here.”
“I’m hoping to borrow one for a few days,” Zita says, her tone bland. “Calling in a favor, if they can manage to spare it. I’ve already made plans to pick a new one up next week.”
“We should get two.” When Zita glares at her, Gabi spreads her hands. “What? There have been so many times when I could’ve sent out two different calls. One for road repairs, one to haul someone in. Things get backed up with only one person on call. If it takes two hours for a road repair, that’s someone sitting around waiting for that long if they’re next in line, or it’s business lost if they call somewhere else.”
Zita huffs and makes a note. “You have a point.”
“Of course I do. This is my place too.” Gabi smiles, pleased with herself, and winks at Ángel.
“I’m not going to be around to go out for you after next week,” he reminds her. “I have to go back to school.”
“Pfft.” Gabi waves away his protest. “You’ll be back for break. Should I expect to see you in March for spring break, or do we have to wait for summer? Send me your finals schedule so I know when you’ll be in and I can get you on the board for work.”
“What if I—”
“You’ll be back,” she says, like that’s that.
Ángel had been thinking about doing research. Finding a project he could work on with Hayley, combining Chemistry, Physics, and Magical Studies, or branching out into something else. But he’d planned on staying on PHU campus, working there. Not coming back to Florida.
His gaze drifts to the door, and Gabi makes a small noise.
Fine, she may have a point.
“Hey, do you need anything?” Tanner pokes his head in, waves a piece of paper. “Luca gave me a list, and Hayley and I are going to go pick up Emerson and then stop at the store.”
Gabi coughs.
Fine. She may have multiple points, and Ángel will probably be back next summer, with Hayley. He rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother to say it, though.
Zita slides off the desk, flips pages on her notepad, and starts listing items off for Tanner. Most of them are cleaning supplies, as well as paper, coffee supplies, and other things to take back to the house for now, along with a fresh stock of plain white t-shirts. Ángel notices that Luca’s snacks go on the list, along with stopping off at the office supply store to order Gabi’s computer and a new printer. Zita picks up the office phone, plugs the cable back in.
“Keep the phone,” Gabi says. “It’s been covered in fingerprints and oil all along. We’ll wipe it down, and a little soot will remind us that we’re not immortal.”
Tanner’s brow furrows. “Do you really need a reminder?”
Gabi and Zita glance at each other. “Sometimes we need a reminder that we’re not idiots when we try to be careful,” Zita says slowly. She picks up her purse, pulls a card from her wallet and hands it to Tanner along with two paint samples with colors circled and numbers written. “Pick up the paint while you’re out, too. Hopefully we’ll be starting that on Monday, so you might as well get it now.”
“Do you need help?” Ángel offers, and for a moment Tanner looks like he considers it.
Then he grins and shakes his head. “Nah, Hayley and I have got this. Emerson’s doing well, and we’ll get it all done and be back in a couple of hours.”
“I’m bringing food in for a picnic out back,” Zita offers, and Tanner’s expression clouds.
“Can’t,” he says. “Martin/Cruz dinner tonight.”
Oh, shit. Ángel forgot about that.
Tanner knocks into Ángel. “I’ll take you home, unless someone else is giving you a ride after we’re all done here. But thanks for the offer, Zita. If we didn’t have a family thing, we’d love to eat here.”
Zita waves him off. “Go. Get things done so you can get back and not be late for your family dinner.”
Gabi tilts her head, frowns slightly. “Ángel, why don’t you go out back and get started cleaning up.”
He thinks about offering to stay, but Gabi nods at the door, and Ángel takes the chance for escape. He walks Tanner out, gives Hayley a hug before they head off, then walks to the back and out.
Tony’s already there, a broom in hand, pushing at debris. He glances up as Ángel lets the door swing closed behind him, then straightens up, leaning on the broom. “What are you doing out here?”
“Gabi sent me.” Ángel looks around for another broom, and failing to find that, grabs a pair of work gloves and puts those on instead. He hauls over one of the trash bins and starts picking up debris to put in it. “She and Zita have everything under control in the office. I was just getting in the way.”
“Mm.” Tony starts sweeping again, pushing the largest of the mess toward Ángel while piling up the dust and dirt and ash in a separate space. They work in silence for a time, until Tony stops, leaning the broom against Helga so he can pull of his shirt, use it to wipe the sweat from his face.
Ángel takes the moment to lean against Helga’s bumper, patting her. “What are we going to do about Helga?” he asks quietly. “She still needs to be fixed. Did the parts go up in smoke?”
“I’ve got what I need to finish up with her,” Tony says. “We’ll get her back on the road before it’s time for you to leave.”
“It’s not that long.” It’s hard to think about that way, that the wedding is only a week away, which means Ángel and Hayley will be driving back to PHU the weekend after. So much has happened in the time since they came home. Angel’s pretty sure his life will never be the same.
“Yeah.” Tony balls up his shirt, stalks to the door. “I need to get a change of clothes.”
“There’s nothing clean in—” Angel’s voice trails off as the door bangs closed behind Tony. “Everything’s covered in ash, and it’s not like I mind seeing your naked chest,” he mutters under his breath. “But hey, run away while we’re talking. Because that went well.”
Ángel strips off the gloves, drops them on Helga’s hood. His car’s in good shape, relatively speaking. As good as the Mustang maybe—they’re both functional and not damaged by fire. Of course, they never finished the motor for the Mustang’s top, so they’d better get a new cover for it.
He walks over, runs his hand along the edge of the door. He flinches when the door to the building slams closed, turns slowly to see Tony walking toward him. Tony nods at the Mustang, and Ángel doesn’t wait for a second invitation; he opens the door and climbs in, settling into the driver’s seat.
Tony slips into the passenger seat, sinks down with his head tilted back.
Ángel lets his hands fall on the steering wheel, slides them along the pebbled surface.
“You’re not driving my ‘stang again right now,” Tony murmurs. He has one hand across his eyes, keeping the sun out.
“Didn’t plan on it.” Ángel drops his hands, crosses them to keep himself from touching anything else. “It’s just a clean place to sit.”
Tony tilts his head, gaze dropping from Angel’s head to where he sits. “I should tell you to go clean up before you sit in here.”
“You’re still shirtless and your jeans are a mess,” Ángel counters.
“My car, my rules.” Tony inhales, lets it out slow and even. “Let’s just sit still for a while. Where it’s quiet.”
The silence doesn’t last long before Angel’s phone buzzes. He glances at Tony, and Tony looks down at his hand, raises an eyebrow. Ángel takes that as an invitation to interrupt the quiet and pulls his phone out, frowns as he sees the message from Hayley.
Tony’s friend Daphne is at the store.
This might not be something to share with Tony. I wouldn’t exactly call her a friend, he sends back.
Girlfriend, Hayley sends. She’s talking to Tanner and Emerson about Emerson’s Talent. She’s being really nice.
She is NOT NICE. Ángel wants to make sure Hayley gets the point. She’s met Daphne, even if it was briefly. More than once, Ángel thinks. He starts typing, but doesn’t get to finish the thought before Hayley replies and Ángel sits upright, staring at the screen.
She’s got loads of ideas and knows a guy that Emerson can talk to. Someone who might be able to help with the seizures.
Tony’s shoulder presses against his. “She?” he asks, and Ángel just scrolls down to show him the earlier piece of the conversation, feels the way Tony goes tense against him. “Tell her it’s a bad idea,” Tony orders.
“I’ve been trying, believe me. I don’t like Daphne.” He looks over at Tony briefly. “Sorry.”
Take the names if you want but don’t take her advice. Daphne’s NOT NICE. She’s not even nice to Tony and they’re dating. Still. I think.
Tony doesn’t offer clarification before Ángel presses send.
Tanner’s listening, but Emerson keeps trying to step backwards. I don’t think he trusts her. And if you don’t trust her, I don’t trust her.
Ángel breathes more easily after that text. Good, he sends back. Good instinct. Don’t trust her. Pretend and get rid of her. Talk to Tanner later, okay?
I will, Hayley promises, and the phone goes silent. Ángel drops it on the seat, moving his hand when Tony picks it up to look at the conversation.
Tony blinks, then hands the phone back to Ángel again. “Sorry, shouldn’t have taken that without asking.”
“Well, it’s not like you thought I’d be talking about you,” Ángel mutters, face heated.
“No, it’s true. I told you before: she’s not a nice person, although she thinks she is.” Tony leans back, head tilted so he stares up at the sky, hand resting in the space between them. “And she hasn’t exactly been nice to me for a long time. In her defense, I haven’t been putting much into the relationship, either. I’m pretty sure she can tell. I did cut her out for New Year’s Eve.”
“You broke up with her,” Ángel points out. “Why didn’t you just stay apart?”
“It’s complicated. We’ve been together a long time.” Tony’s mouth thins. He lifts his hand slowly, crosses his arms, shoulders bunching with the movement. “Like I said, we got together young. There’s a lot of history, a lot of things we’ve been through together.”
Ángel reaches before thinking, touches Tony’s forearm. He pulls back when Tony flinches, but Tony shakes his head.
“It’s okay,” Tony says, and Ángel flattens his hand, curls around Tony’s warm skin.
“Why do you keep going back?” he asks.
“How do you feel about Hayley and Tanner?” Tony asks in return, rather than denying that he does keep going back.
Angel frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asks. When Tony gestures, Ángel sifts through his feelings, tries to find a way to put it. “Fine. I uh….” He tries to make sense of it, mouth twisting in frustration as he thinks. “I still love her. I mean, I probably always will, and we’re going to be friends forever—which I’m pretty sure is different from you and Daphne.”
Tony doesn’t deny it, just stares up at the sky.
“But I’m not hurt about her and Tanner anymore,” Ángel admits. “I’ve moved on. Mentally, I mean. I want her and Tanner happy, and I’ll be there to support her, and I really hope they work out because I think the magic had the right idea.”
“Do you think it’s forcing them?”
Ángel twists in the seat, hand against Tony’s chest as he shakes his head. “No, not at all. It can’t. It’s not a love spell, it’s just a way of bringing out what’s already there. Or I guess in this case what has potential to be there. But it can’t make them fall in love; they either will or they won’t, no matter whether the magic sees something perfect between them or not.”
“Did it scare you?”
It’s a strange question, and Ángel can’t read anything behind the mask Tony seems to wear, quiet and still. “Did it—maybe? I thought I knew exactly where my life was going, and suddenly it just… wasn’t. Suddenly everything shifted sideways and I was left feeling like the ground wasn’t even stable under my feet. And when I first found out, if I could’ve just gone back in time and had it all the stay the way it was, I probably would’ve. I knew how things worked then, with Hayley as my girlfriend, and Tanner as my best friend, and it all made sense. And for a little while there, nothing made sense, so yeah. I was angry, but maybe a little scared, too.”
Tony nods, licks his lips thoughtfully. “That,” he says slowly. “You were with Hayley for what, two years? I was with Daphne for eleven. And the first few were good. I mean, we had a few hiccups, but overall, they were really good. I’ve been with her since I was in high school, and even if it wasn’t perfect, I knew where I was going. Eventually. I wasn’t rushing to get anywhere, and when she started pushing, it felt—it felt like she was trying to force something that wasn’t actually there. That I knew wasn’t there, and maybe I’d known it for a while, and something—”
“What?” Ángel asks, when Tony just stops talking.
Tony inhales, holds it for a long moment before it slips out slowly. “Something made me look at things differently. And that terrified me.”
“Oh.” Ángel rubs at his wrist, realizes that Tony’s looking at him now, not the sky. He can feel the weight of Tony’s gaze, the strength of his regard, and Ángel looks away. “Maybe it’s time to break up with her again. Or stay broken up,” Ángel suggests quietly. “If she’s not good for you.”
“Maybe,” Tony agrees. He sits up, leans forward with his elbows on his knees, palms up and ink in view.
Ángel flattens his palm over his own ink, covering the cat from view. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Tony arches an eyebrow. “This wasn’t personal?”
Heat floods Angel’s cheeks. “Different kind of personal. Just for personal reference. Obviously you’re attracted to women—you’ve been dating one for more than a decade. Are you attracted to men at all?”
“You want to know if I’m bi?” Tony asks.
Ángel manages to nod, then Tony’s hand is on his cheek. Ángel goes absolutely still as Tony leans forward, mouth warm and lips chapped as he kisses Ángel. Time slows down, Angel’s heart thundering in his chest as his mouth opens slightly, invites the kiss deeper.
Electricity sparks and flickers explode around them, the Mustang starting with a violent rumble.
Tony pulls back abruptly, eyes wide. “Shit.”
“I didn’t mean to.” Ángel reaches for the steering column, sends another shock to stop the car, but it’s too late.
Tony’s already out of the car, the door slamming in his wake. He’s gone before Ángel can call out, stalking across the lot and into the shop, the door falling closed with a thunk.
Fuck.
Ángel slumps back into the seat, slides down until his knees are bent and squeezed under the steering column, and he can barely see over the edge of the door. Maybe he can just stay here for a while, at least until he has to go home. Because he’s sure as hell not chasing Tony inside, not after that exit.